The Treehouse
by deanimnotamoose
Summary: A/N: This is only my second fanfiction, so feel free to critique! :D Destiel High School AU. Rated T for later chapters. Romance, angst.
1. Chapter 1

The Treehouse – Chapter One

Dean and Castiel had never really been friends. Castiel might have a bit of a crush on Dean, but it was only from afar, just like every other girl at the school. Castiel was that socially awkward kid who ate lunch by himself even though some of his brothers were still in high school. He'd been told he'd never really been good with conversation.

Dean and his friends pulled pranks on him almost every day—typical of boys in high school. Wedgies, fake spiders in his locker, all those simple, failsafe pranks. The first few months had really bothered Castiel, but after that he expected something to be in his locker.

On this particular day, though, the only thing in his locker was a note. He rolled his eyes. I wonder what it could be. He opened it and read through it. He had to shake his head and start over; he couldn't believe it.

_Hey Cas,_

_I got my friends to stop pranking you. They_

_probably think I'm a pussy now, but I thought it_

_was wrong the whole time._

It was signed by Dean. Cas tilted his head in confusion, then looked around for him and his friends._ This has to be another one of his brilliant pranks_. When he didn't see any of the usual suspects, he crumpled up the note and tossed it into the recycling bin. Castiel sighed, grabbing his books for the day. It was almost time for his first class to begin.

Castiel spent most of his time that morning staring blankly out of windows and despairing. He was supposed to hate Dean, right? He pulled pranks on Cas—all the time, and sometimes really mean ones. Nobody in their right mind would be attracted to somebody who did that. And yet, here he was.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Castiel had made up his mind; on the walk to the cafeteria, he went over the plan in his head for the thousandth time. Easy enough.

Or, it should have been. But his palms were getting sweaty; he had never really spoken to Dean, except for freshmen year, when they'd been lab partners in chemistry. He marched straight up to Dean's table, newly bought lunch in hand. "We need to talk."

Dean laughed and looked up at Castiel, seeming uninterested. "What about, Chuckles?"

Castiel's face inflamed, a bright red mess. _Chuckles? Really?_ Deprived of most of his previous confidence, he started to stammer. "I-I-…" He quickly abandoned his oh-so-clever plan, scampering off to the bathroom and ducking into a stall. He'd seen girls in movies do it, so it must work for him. He spent the rest of the lunch period eating in the stall and cursing under his breath at how stupid he'd let himself look.

Cas walked wearily down the hallway toward the exit for the student parking lot after the rest of the classes had passed in a dreary blur. Someone was walking toward him.

_Is that Dean?_ He turned on his heel._ Looks like I'm taking the long way to the parking lot._

Dean called out, trying to get his attention. "Hey feather-ass! I need to talk to you."

Castiel's lips tightened at the new nickname.

"Castiel! Stop!"

This time Castiel turned around and glared at him. He spat out, "What? Going to prank me again?"

Dean seemed to pause in his tracks for a moment, but Castiel didn't have long to enjoy the small triumph—Dean was shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "What was that note all about?"

Dean stepped closer to him, lowering his voice. "The note wasn't a prank. I promise."

Castiel turned his head and rolled his eyes, "Sure."

Dean sounded slightly annoyed now, but still didn't raise the volume. "Look man, I never wanted to do all those things to you. They were cruel. But I don't want to lose my friends. You understand, right?"

Castiel shot him a nasty look. "No, I _don't_ understand. I don't_ have_ any friends because of your group."

Dean frowned. "Look, I really am sorry." He looked at Cas with stupid, sincere, _really-freaking-green eyes_. "I'll make it up to you. I don't know how yet, but I will."

Castiel sighed and turned to walk away. "Sure you will."

Dean didn't try to stop him. Good, Castiel thought, walking out to his car and still fuming; there really wasn't a point. He was never going to convince Cas that he meant it. How could Dean really be sorry if he still acted like a dick in front of his friends? It wasn't right. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, he hoped silently that his brothers hadn't heard about him eating the bathroom today. He'd never hear the end of it.

He pulled into the driveway and went straight to his room. He wouldn't have to worry about his brothers until then—they all had their things to do after school.

Castiel didn't come out until it was time to eat, and even then stayed quiet at the dinner table, still keeping up his constant prayer that nobody knew about what had happened today. When they all finished, he collected the dishes, heaving quiet, relieved breaths; it was his turn to clean them. For a while, things turned into a rhythm of soapy bubbles and scratchy washcloths and the clink of dishes.

When it was done, Cas went back into his room to lie on the bed, still incredulously grateful that he'd managed to get away with his stereotypical crying-in-the-bathroom routine. He didn't bother changing into his pajamas; he just stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The Treehouse—Chapter Two

Castiel avoided Dean for the next few days. That was one of his skills - he'd been practicing it for sixteen years now. The only good thing that has come out of all of this is that Castiel doesn't have to worry about what's in his locker today.

Today was no different for Cas: taking different ways to class, being nearly late to all of them. He spent the long day doodling in his notebooks, staring out the windows, and just wishing the day would be over already. He hated being at school. Not because he hated learning; he loved to learn. But everything was too easy and nothing was interesting - no one even talked to him.

As he closed his locker at the end of the day, phone in hand, he was surprised to see Dean leaning against the lockers. Castiel just quickly glanced up, saying nothing. Dean cleared his throat. "Are you gonna say hi?"

Castiel shook his head and turned to leave, reading the text from his mom telling him to pick up milk on the way home. Dean started following him and Castiel sighed, cursing under his breath. _Can't he just leave me alone?_

Dean caught up to him and matched his steps. "I apologized, man. Will you at least talk to me?"

This made Castiel stop. "No, Dean. One apology isn't going to make up for four months of torture, okay?" With his face now in a grimace, he pushed past Dean hitting his shoulder. He figured that would really piss Dean off.

Dean grabbed his arm. Castiel tried to rip his arm from his tight grip, but failed. "Don't touch me."

Dean sighed and dropped his hand to his side. "Fine. All I'm trying to do is be your friend, Cas."

Castiel rolled his eyes. Oh really now? "I thought you had your precious reputation to uphold." It was harsher than he'd intended, but he wasn't going to apologize.

Dean furrowed his brow and kicked his foot out. "Yeah, I do… but screw my friends."

Surprised, Castiel just stared at him, unsure of what to say. The first thing that came out was, "You don't mean that. You don't know anything about me."

Dean sighed and kicked his foot out a little again. Castiel had never seen him this vulnerable before. It was like Castiel was making him nervous. Making _Dean Winchester_, the guy who wasn't scared of anything, nervous. "Well that's kind of the point of wanting to be your friend. To get to know you."

Castiel thought about "The Breakfast Club" for a moment, about the basketcase and the princess and how things had gone. "You'd just blow me off in front of your friends."

Dean frowned, knowing he was right.

When Dean didn't say anything for a bit, Castiel rolled his eyes. "Of course. Nothing to say."

Before Castiel could react, Dean reached out and took his phone from his hand. Castiel yelled, "Hey! What are you doing?!" He tried to reach for it, but Dean turned his body so that Castiel couldn't get it back.

When he'd finished whatever he was doing, he handed Castiel his phone back. "You can text me if you want."

Castiel looked at the new contact listing on his phone, then scoffed. "Yeah, like I'd want to talk to you."

And that was the end of the conversation, cut off when Castiel turned away from Dean and stormed out to the student parking lot. He murmured under his breath, "Asshole…"

Castiel spent the rest of his afternoon and evening in a rage._ How could anybody be that stupid and rude?! He could have just asked for my number instead of ripping my phone out of my hands._

He barely remembered to pick up the milk before he came home, almost driving past the store in his anger. But he couldn't figure out why he was so angry. Dean was only trying to be nice._ Probably because if I came up to him in front of his friends, he would blow me off._ He hadn't even tried to deny it.

When Castiel came home, he set the milk down on the counter a little more loudly than necessary and went into his bedroom; the door slammed shut behind him. As he paced the room, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, spinning it in his hand. _Should I text him or not? Maybe I shouldn't. He just gave me his number today. Wait. Why am I even considering texting him? He's an asshole and I don't need his sympathy._

He set his phone down on the table and planted face first onto his bed, laying there for thirty minutes. Not about to let Dean affect his ability to do homework, he forced himself out of bed to sit at his desk and do his homework. Occasionally, he'd look over at his phone for a moment; each time, he'd shut his mind down with a firm_ no_. But his phone seemed to be screaming, enticing him to text Dean.

Finally, when it grew too much to bear, he put his pencil down and picked up his phone, typing in, "_Hey Dean. It's Castiel._"


End file.
